Not Gonna Make This
by fagur fiskur
Summary: After his and Castiel's confrontation with Raphael, Dean finds himself stuck in a nightmare: reliving the same day over and over again. Every day ends the same way, with Cas being killed by demons. Dean/Castiel


**A/N:** 30 (more) cheesy tropes: #25 Time loop

This fic assumes that Sam never told Dean about the events of Mystery Spot, so let's ignore the fact that in canon, Dean did know about them.

And speaking of Mystery Spot, I kind of ripped off the structure from it for this fic. I honestly didn't realize how similar it was until I had finished the first day, and by then it was way too late for me to go back and rewrite the whole thing because I'm kind of lazy and that's a lot of extra work.

So yeah. This isn't exactly like Mystery Spot but there are some glaring similarities. Let's please pretend I didn't just throw my artistic integrity completely down the toilet and enjoy this for what it is?

Title taken from In Too Deep by Genesis, which I had on repeat almost the entire time I was writing this.

* * *

><p><strong>Not Gonna Make This<strong>

* * *

><p>0<p>

After the whole thing with Raphael, Dean expected Cas to go flying off to continue his search for God. Hearing that one of the archangels believed the big man to be dead had to be discouraging, but Cas was a fighter. More importantly, he was stubborn.

But Cas didn't fly off. When they pulled over by the motel Dean was staying at, he got out and followed Dean to his room. Dean had ordered two queens out of habit, so it wasn't like there wasn't space, but Cas didn't even need to sleep. Not that Dean was complaining if he intended to stick around.

"Aren't you gonna," Dean said, gesturing vaguely in the air, "poof?"

Cas tilted his head. "Do you want me to poof?"

"No," Dean reassured him. "Just wondering if you don't have something better to do."

"I'll return to my search soon if that's what you were asking. There was something I wanted to..." Cas frowned, then settled on, "figure out, first."

Dean shrugged and fished out the keys from his pocket, turning to open the door to his room. "Figure away, then."

Once they got inside, Dean kicked off his shoes threw himself down on the bed. He watched, trying not to smirk, as Cas looked around the room and then sat down primly on the edge of the other bed.

"Do you mind if I...?" he asked, gesturing at the television.

Dean snorted. "Whatever, man. I don't care, so long as you're not watching me sleep."

Cas grabbed the remote, turning it over in his hands like it was something extremely delicate and to be treated with reverence. He looked almost human, sitting there with a remote control in his hands and his clothes ruffled and dirty from a long day of confronting archangels and cheating death.

Dean shut his eyes, ignoring the ache in his chest, and drifted off to the sounds of late-night infomercials.

1

Cas was still there when Dean woke up the next morning, sitting in the same exact position, watching what looked like an episode of Full House.

"Good morning, Dean," Cas said without looking away from the television.

"You've got to be kidding me," Dean muttered. "Are you seriously watching that?"

"It's highly informative."

Dean groaned. "It's too early for this."

But he sure as hell wasn't going to fall back asleep to the dulcet tones of Bob freaking Saget, so Dean rolled out of bed, and started going through his duffle bag for a clean pair of underwear.

"If you need me, I'll be in the shower."

Cas grunted something that might have been in affirmation.

After showering and brushing his teeth, Dean grabbed the car keys. He hadn't had dinner the night before, and his stomach was vehemently protesting. "Come on, there's a diner down the road that serves some amazing apple pie."

"Should you be having pie for breakfast?"

"Who are you, Sam?" Dean asked. He regretted it as soon as he'd said it; the thought of Sam still stung. But the separation had been in everyone's best interest, he argued with himself, so he wasn't gonna go whining about it. "It's my damn body, I'll eat whatever the hell I want."

Cas turned of the television and got up, walking past Dean as he muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, "I'm the one who put it together."

* * *

><p>Dean ended up skipping on the pie (not because of Cas, he just didn't feel like pie, okay?), going instead for the only mildly-less-unhealthy greasy breakfast platter. He was half-way through the eggs and hash browns when he noticed that Cas was staring at him.<p>

Cas staring wasn't anything new, but the expression on his face was. He usually looked confused or, more often, irritated when he stared at Dean, but now he looked contemplative.

Dean put down his fork and leaned back in his chair, smirking. "See something you like?"

He'd meant it as a joke, but Cas seemed to be seriously thinking about that question. After a long, awkward silence, he said, "I want to talk to you about something."

"Uh, sure." Dean signaled for the waitress. If Cas was gonna get all weird on him then he needed more coffee.

"It first occurred to me two days ago," Cas started saying, just as the waitress arrived, "when you took me to that brothel."

"Okay!" Dean interjected loudly. He smiled up at the waitress who stared back, unimpressed. "Could we get the check, please?"

The waitress shot him a stiff smile. "Sure thing."

Once she was safely out of earshot, Dean turned back to Cas. "You can't talk about stuff like that in public, Cas."

"Why not?"

"Because you can't. Can we drop the subject until we get back to the car?"

Cas sighed. It was the same kind of sighing Sam did when he was fed up with Dean's bullshit. And here Dean thought _he'd_ been a bad influence. "All right."

* * *

><p>"So, spill. What did you wanna tell me? Something about the brothel?"<p>

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean could see Cas glaring at him. "Something that occurred to me at the brothel."

"Right."

A long moment passed with no sounds but Phil Collins warbling on the radio (and who the hell had changed the channel?). Just as Dean was starting to think that Cas wasn't going to say anything, he continued, "I'm not very good with emotions, Dean. I wasn't sure what I was feeling that night or why."

Dean cleared his throat, already wishing that Cas hadn't started talking. But he was kind of the guy's only authority on these things right now, which sucked for both of them, so it wasn't like he could tell him to shut up. "Oh?"

"But I think I understand now. Admittedly, I don't have much experience with this type of love-"

"Whoa," Dean cut in. "You're _in love_ with Chastity?"

"No."

Dean breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. Because, let me tell you-"

"I'm in love with you."

Before he realized what he was doing, Dean had slammed the breaks. The Impala came to a halt with a loud screech but for once, Dean wasn't worried about her. He killed the engine, ignoring the fact that he was still in the middle of the road. "I'm sorry, I must be hearing things."

"I'm in love with you," Cas repeated, slower this time, as if the problem was Dean's hearing and not everything else with this situation.

Dean's stomach swooped. "No, you're not."

"Yes, I am." Cas sounded annoyed. "I've given this a lot of thought, Dean."

"Then you misunderstood something, because you can't be in love with me."

"Don't presume to tell me what I feel."

At the anger in Cas' voice, Dean finally looked away from the road. Cas was looking at him with the kind of intensity Dean had only ever seen from him, the kind where you couldn't help but remember that there was real power hiding behind those eyes.

"I don't ask that you feel the same way, only that you accept what I feel."

And really, out of all the things to do in this situation, what Dean did next was probably the stupidest.

He kissed Cas.

He wasn't even completely sure _why_, only that he needed _some_ way to show Cas that he was wrong, he couldn't possibly love Dean, who was broken and tarnished and everything an angel should never associate with.

Only Cas was kissing him back, clumsy and unskilled and enthusiastic. And this couldn't be real, it _couldn't_, it had to be a dream. How else could Dean be parked in the middle of the road, trading spit with an angel of the lord?

They broke apart.

"Um." Dean wiped at his mouth, cringing. "This wasn't an 'I love you too'."

"I understand," Cas said, but judging by the stars in his eyes, it didn't seem like he did. "What... was it, then?"

"I don't know." Dean ducked his head, painfully aware of the fact that he was blushing. "A maybe?"

"Maybe," Castiel repeated.

He didn't say anything else and when Dean raised his head again, he was smiling softly to himself.

Dean started the car. He couldn't deal with this right now.

* * *

><p>They arrived back at the motel ten excruciating minutes later. Cas still showed no sign of leaving any time soon, and at this point Dean honestly wasn't sure if he wanted him to or not.<p>

Just as they were about to reach their room, Cas grabbed Dean's arm. Dean's heart started hammering as his mind flew immediately to the possibility of another kiss, but Cas wasn't even looking at him.

"Demons," he said quietly. "Three of them."

Dean reached for his knife. "Positions?"

"One by the door, two by the beds. I should be able to dispatch of them easily."

"You're not going in alone," Dean argued.

"It would be simpler-"

But Dean was already moving, knife raised. Behind him, he heard the faint sound of Cas flying off, and he hurried for the door, eager to get in before Cas finished the job without him.

He crashed through the door shoulder-first, but before he could attack, a shot rang out and a horrible pain tore through his left leg. Dean stumbled into the nearest wall, staying on his feet only by sheer stubbornness.

The demon who had shot him smirked and raised his gun, just as Cas appeared behind him. He grabbed the demon by his head but before he could smite him, the other two came at him from the sides. Cas knocked one away with a swat of his arm but the other used the moment Cas' attention was split to his advantage, and stabbed him in the heart.

Dean's eyes closed on reflex and his arms raised in defense just as a blindingly bright light exploded from Cas' vessel. His legs gave and he fell to his knees, and all he could think was _this can't be happening not Cas it isn't supposed to end like this_.

The light receded but Dean didn't open his eyes. The room was terrifyingly quiet, and all Dean wanted was to keep his eyes closed until it all went away, until his heart stopped beating like it was trying to break out of his chest.

He shifted, and the pain in his left leg brought Dean back to himself. He lowered his arms and finally, reluctantly, opened his eyes. The first thing he noticed was the wings, or rather, the terrible grey imprints of wings spread across the motel room walls, the tips just reaching the ceiling. The vessels of the three demons were strewn on the floor, eyes burned out. And in the middle of it all...

It wasn't Cas, Dean reminded himself numbly. It was just his vessel. It was Jimmy Novak's corpse, lying in an awkward heap on the floor like a puppet whose strings had been cut. A silver knife stuck out of his chest - an angel blade. Where had a bunch of low-level demons gotten their hands on an angel blade?

Unmindful of the pain in his leg, Dean started crawling closer. He gently cradled Cas' neck, feeling for a pulse with his thumb. "Cas?"

There wasn't an answer. There wasn't a pulse.

"Cas," Dean said again, sharper. He could feel something rising in his throat, either he was about to throw up or start crying. "Cas!"

Nothing.

A sob tore itself through Dean and he pulled Cas into his arms (_not Cas, this body was never really him, but it was the only part of him Dean ever saw_). The blade was still sticking obscenely out of him but Dean couldn't bear to touch it.

He buried his nose in Cas' hair and cried.

2

Dean woke up with a start. He shot up, his eyes flying open. At first, all he could focus on was the way his heart was pounding in his throat. Then, Cas was in front of him, gently grabbing his shoulder.

"Dean," he said. "Are you all right?"

"Cas," Dean breathed. He reached up, grabbing the hand Cas had laid on his shoulder. It felt real enough. "You're alive?"

Cas squinted at him. "Is there any reason you think I shouldn't be?"

He looked genuinely confused, which made Dean feel all the more lost. He looked around the room. No wing imprints on the walls, no burned-out demon vessels. Full House playing on the television.

Was it possible the whole thing had been a dream? The memory of it was already starting to get fuzzy (everything but Jimmy Novak's body, lying bleeding and broken on the floor, but he wasn't thinking about that). His leg didn't even hurt.

"No," he said at last. His stomach growled, thankfully giving Dean something new to think about. "I need to eat something."

* * *

><p>They went to the same diner as in Dean's dream. Dean ordered the greasy breakfast platter (for the first time, he reminded himself) and, when Cas shot him a disapproving look, a slice of pie out of spite.<p>

The platter came, looking delicious, but something about it made Dean's stomach turn. He forced himself to dig in anyway. Maybe he had a stomach bug. That would explain the weird-ass dream.

"I want to talk to you about something."

For some reason, those words sent chills down Dean's spine, and he had to fight not to cough out the food in his mouth. He swallowed, struggling to figure out why he felt so unsettled. "What?"

"It first occurred to me two days ago," Cas said, and Dean's stomach sank as he realized that he'd heard those _exact_ words before, in the exact same place.

"When I took you to that brothel," he finished.

"Yes," Castiel said, as if Dean finishing his sentences was a perfectly normal occurrence. "I'm not very good with emotions, Dean. I wasn't sure what I was feeling that night or why."

Dean held up his hand. If this conversation was heading where the thought it was, then they sure as hell weren't going to have it in a diner surrounded by people. "Hang on, let me pay for my breakfast first."

* * *

><p>They got in the Impala but they didn't go far. If Dean really had lived through this day once already, then there were three demons armed with an angel blade waiting for them back at the motel. They needed to plan a counterattack before they went back.<p>

But first, Dean needed to make sure that the day before hadn't been a dream.

After driving half a mile, he parked on the side of the road. Phil Collins was still (again) on the radio. Dean forcefully turned it off. "Okay. What did you wanna tell me?"

Cas nodded, mostly, it seemed, to himself. "As I said earlier, I wasn't sure what I was feeling that night or why. But I think I understand now. Admittedly, I don't have much experience with this type of love. Loving Father is a different sensation all-together. I'm not even sure angels are meant to feel love this way." He looked up, then, and Dean found himself caught breathless at the plainly adoring look in his eyes. "But I do. Perhaps it's wrong, but I do. I love y-"

Catching Cas mid-sentence meant catching him with his mouth open and for a few moments, it was awkward as hell. Their teeth clashed together and a small line of spit ran down Dean's chin, but then Cas got with the program, and it got good. Cas kissed like a starving man being served a feast, and his passion and hunger made Dean feel breathless.

Then he remembered what was going on, what Cas' confession meant, and he really was breathless.

Dean recoiled. "Wait!"

"What is it?"

"Doesn't this seem familiar to you?" Dean asked. "Like you've been through this before?"

Cas frowned, and Dean was suddenly all too aware of the fact that they still hadn't let go of each other - Cas' hand was still grasping at his upper arm, and his own hand was still on Cas' thigh. "I don't understand."

Once again, he looked genuinely confused. Maybe this was some kind of spell? It seemed like the kind of shit a witch might pull although in that case, Dean had to be the one being affected. There was no way a witch could trick an angel, right?

So maybe he'd been dreaming earlier. Maybe he was dreaming right now (he really hoped not). Maybe the only way to find out for sure was to go back to the motel and kill those demons before they had the chance to kill Cas.

* * *

><p>They made it back to the motel in record time, and Dean jumped out of the car, not stopping to see if Cas was following. Just as he was approaching the room Cas grabbed his arm, right on cue.<p>

"Demons. Three of them."

Dean nodded, his hand already on the knife tucked away in his waistband. "You're not going in alone," he said preemptively.

"I could easily dispatch of them myself," Cas said, sounding slightly insulted.

"What if they've got an angel blade?"

"That is highly unlikely."

Dean shrugged. "Better safe than sorry."

But then Cas hand was gone from his arm, and Dean was left alone, his heart sinking. He ran for the door of his room, internally cursing the stupidity of angels and their reckless belief that just because they were some of the most powerful creatures on earth, that somehow made them untouchable.

He burst through the door, remembering just in time what had happened the last time he'd done that.

But it was too late. A shot rang out, a devastating pain tearing through his leg, and before Dean could even raise his knife, Cas was there, grabbing onto the demon responsible. It was over in a flash, and all Dean could do was squeeze his eyes shut as Cas exploded again into brilliant light.

3

Dean woke with a start. He lay still, even though every nerve in his body was shouting at him to jump to his feet. He'd been dreaming. Had to have been.

"Good morning, Dean."

Dean turned his head. Cas was sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at the television. Watching Full House.

So. Not dreaming. Just reliving the same day three times in a row now. The same day where Cas kept ending up stabbed to death.

Well, not this time around.

"Come on," Dean said as he sat up in bed. "Let's go check out."

* * *

><p>Dean drove for three hours with no particular destination in mind, only the intention to get as far away from that fucking motel as possible. Maybe, he reasoned with himself, maybe if he could keep Cas alive until the end of the day, whatever hellish cycle he was stuck in would break.<p>

"I want to talk to you about something."

The already familiar words had Dean's heart seizing painfully in his chest. He slowed the car down to a stop, not even bothering to pull over. They hadn't met more than a couple of cars in the last three hours, anyway.

"It first occurred to me two days ago, when you took me to that brothel."

Cas was talking calmly, as if Dean wasn't sitting next to him, two seconds away from a heart attack, and when Dean looked at him he realized why. Cas wasn't looking at him but staring straight at the road ahead. His expression was perfectly calm, but his hands were clenched into fists in his lap, his knuckles white. He was nervous.

"I'm not very good with emotions, Dean. I wasn't sure what I was feeling that night or why."

"You're in love with me," Dean interjected.

Cas raised his head, his eyes wide. He nodded wordlessly, and Dean couldn't help leaning in and kissing that bewildered look off his face.

* * *

><p>They pulled over at a gas station thirty minutes later. Cas had a small, goofy smile on his face, which Dean was pretty sure was mirrored on his own. He honestly felt hopeful. The motel was miles behind them, and so far there were no signs of any demons. Sure, there was the whole apocalypse thing still looming over them but it seemed too distant right now to worry about. The immediate danger had been dodged.<p>

"Just hold on a second," Dean told Cas, unbuckling his seat belt. "I'm gonna go get something to eat."

Cas smiled dreamily at him in response, which did not cause Dean's heart to speed up at all, no sir.

Dean had just barely set a foot inside the gas station when he was flung through the air, landing against a nearby magazine rack and knocking it over. He tried to get on his feet but couldn't, pinned down by an unseen force.

"And here I thought catching the legendary Dean Winchester off guard would be difficult."

Dean grimaced at the ground; he couldn't even raise his head to look at his attacker, but out of the corner of his eye he could see two pairs of feet stalking slowly closer. Demons, he guessed.

"We really expected more of a challenge," another voice added. "But look at you, you don't even have backup."

"Don't be so sure."

Any other time, the sound of Cas' gravelly voice would have filled Dean with relief but now his entire body seized in panic. He still couldn't move, could only squeeze his eyes shut and open his mouth in a silent scream as his entire world was once again overtaken by a blindingly brilliant light.

4

"Good morning, Dean."

"Morning, Cas," Dean muttered, staring thoughtfully at the ceiling.

Running away hadn't worked, but what if they stayed in the motel room and prepared? He just needed to tell Cas what was going on, and they could take out those demons before they had a chance to lay one finger on either of them.

His mind made up, Dean got out of bed. "Cas, I need to tell you something."

* * *

><p>Cas was reluctant to believe him, because, "If some creature has tampered with temporal space in such a way, I would be able to sense it."<p>

"So maybe it's something more powerful than an angel," Dean argued. "I'm not going crazy here, this is real."

"Humans often dream very vividly," Cas said, and maybe Dean was imagining the condescending tone in his voice but either way, it pissed him off.

"I've seen you die three times now, Cas. That was not a fucking dream."

Cas still didn't look convinced, and Dean realized that he needed to change tactics.

"You've also told me three times that you needed to talk about something," he said. "Something that occurred to you at the brothel."

Cas' eyes widened slightly, the only indication that he understood was Dean was talking about.

"Then you said you weren't good with emotions and that you didn't have any experience with this type of love..."

Dean trailed off, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. No matter how many times Cas told him that he loved him, he still couldn't wrap his head around it. Still couldn't figure out _why_.

"And," Cas said, voice even gruffer than usual, "what has your response been?"

Really, it wasn't Dean's fault this time that he leaned in and kissed Cas. He was just being honest.

* * *

><p>Now that he had Cas convinced, preparing for the demons' arrival was quick work. Dean painted a devil's trap underneath the carpet and one on the ceiling for good measure, and Cas cracked open a vein to draw some angelic symbols on the walls.<p>

They were ready when the demons burst through the door, . Dean tackled the one armed with a gun, taking great pleasure in stabbing the fucker in the face with Ruby's knife. The second demon stood still, held by the devil's trap on the ceiling, but the third had slipped by both of them and was heading for Cas.

Cas laid his palm on the bloody symbol on the wall and the demon was blown away, but not before he managed to throw the blade, embedding it in Cas' chest.

Absurdly enough, all Dean could think as he shut his eyes was, _Cas had better not be watching Full House when I wake up_.

10

"Good morning, Dean."

So.

Running away didn't work. Staying put didn't work. Telling Cas didn't work. No matter how they fought, no matter which demon Dean tackled first, it didn't matter. It always ended the same way.

"Dean?" Cas was hovering over him, eyebrows furrowed with worry. "Are you all right?"

"Just peachy," Dean said, smirking humorlessly.

His eyes darted down to Cas lips. Lips he had and hadn't kissed. At least there was one part of this whole mess Dean could always look forward to. He still hadn't bothered to stop and examine why, wasn't sure he'd like what he found out if he did.

"Dean?"

Figuring out how he felt about Cas was hard and could potentially lead to heartbreak. But this, Dean reflected as he pulled Cas down by his tie for yet another first kiss, this was easy.

17

If he never heard Bob Saget speak after this, it would be too soon.

22

Dean couldn't get hard, not with the knowledge of Cas' imminent death hanging over him. Luckily, he didn't need to be hard in order to climb on top of Cas and give him the ride of a lifetime.

For a few moments, Dean could forget everything and just focus on Cas inside him, around him, whimpering into his shoulder and whispering breathless declarations of love against his skin. It was overwhelming and in the heat of the moment, Dean may have said something he would regret, but it didn't matter.

Cas would be dead in an hour anyway, and he wouldn't remember any of this tomorrow.

26

Maybe Dean was the one who was meant to die. Maybe diving in front of Cas, taking the angel blade in his chest instead, would be enough to break the cycle.

If only he could move fast enough. But he never could.

35

"I love you, Dean. You're so beautiful, so kind, so brave."

Dean kissed him, hoping that would be enough to shut Cas up, before he did something stupid and embarrassing like start to cry during sex, but as soon as they broke apart Cas continued:

"You're everything, Dean, everything."

42

"I love you," Dean finally replied.

Then he pressed the barrel of Sam's old gun against his temple and blew his brains out.

50

"What am I gonna do with you, kid?"

Dean's eyes flew open, his hand automatically going for the knife under his pillow. The trickster was standing by his bed, grinning obnoxiously. Behind him, the television was stuck on an image of John Stamos holding one of the Olsen twins. Cas was sitting on the other bed, frozen as well.

"I mean," the trickster continued, "suicide? Really? You try _that_ before you try rejecting Cassie?"

Dean got up, knife still in hand. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Sammy really does have all the brains in the family, doesn't he?" The trickster sighed. "You've done everything _but_ the one single thing that would stop the cycle and let Castiel live. I figured you'd stumble on it yourself _eventually_. I really hate it when I have to spell out these things."

"You did this?"

"Give the boy a prize! And would you put that down?" The knife suddenly turned searing hot, forcing Dean to drop it. "You could take your eye out."

Dean scoffed, but decided to let it go. He wouldn't have been able to hurt the trickster with that knife, anyway. "What did you mean about rejecting Cas?"

"What do you think, genius? Castiel was right, you know, angels aren't meant to feel love the way he does. He's falling, and all those sappy, human emotions? Are making it happen even faster."

Dean felt nauseous. Why hadn't Cas told him? Did he even know it was happening? "Cas is falling?"

"Uh, yeah," the trickster said, "I just said that. Believe me, I've been watching you and I recognize the signs."

"You've been watching us?"

"Is there an echo in here? Yeah, I've been watching you, and closer than you might think. Sam, too. Someone's gotta keep an eye out on you bozos. Anyway, I figured after the whole deal with the brothel - which was very entertaining to watch, by the way, so thank you for that - it was only a matter of time before something like this happened."

"Why do you even care?" Dean asked. His anger was growing and he let it, glad to be feeling something other than pain. "What's it to you if Cas falls?"

"That is between me," the trickster pointed at himself, "myself, and I. Just make sure you reject Cassie well and good this time around. Make it clear that nothing is ever going to happen between you, and I'll make sure those pesky demons don't bother you anymore. Capiche?"

The trickster didn't wait for Dean to answer but snapped his fingers and disappeared. As soon as he was gone, everything unfroze.

Cas turned around, looking confused. "Dean. You're awake."

"Uh." Dean licked his lips, unsure of what to say. If he didn't tell Cas anything, rejected him when he was supposed to, would Cas get to live? Should he trust the trickster's word?

Did he really have a choice?

"I need to get some breakfast," he mumbled. "Wanna come?"

* * *

><p>For the first time in twenty-three days, Dean ordered the breakfast platter. It felt appropriate, spending the day as if he'd never lived through it before.<p>

He was half-way through the eggs and hash browns when Cas said, right on schedule, "I want to talk to you about something."

Dean put down his fork, but he didn't signal for the waitress. If he was going to do this, then he needed to do it in the diner, surrounded by people. He wasn't sure he could resist the temptation to kiss Cas if it was just the two of them. "Go ahead."

"It first occurred to me two days ago, when you took me to that brothel. I'm not very good with emotions, Dean. I wasn't sure what I was feeling that night or why. But I think I understand now. Admittedly, I don't have much experience with this type of love-"

"Cas," Dean cut him off. He couldn't sit through the rest of this confession, not when every inch of him was screaming for him to pull Cas close and never let him go. "I get what you're saying. And I wish I could say I felt the same way, but..."

He couldn't finish that sentence but fortunately, Cas had caught his meaning. "You don't."

"I'm sorry."

Cas nodded, his eyes lowered. It was like he couldn't even stand to look at Dean. But better heartbroken than dead. "It's not your fault."

The waitress came then, offering them more coffee. Dean asked for the check instead. He couldn't sit here any longer.

* * *

><p>There were no demons waiting for them at the motel. It felt almost eerily calm after the last forty-nine days of fighting and killing and dying.<p>

But calm or not, Dean couldn't wait to get the hell out of there. He reached for his duffle. "So, where should we head next?"

"I think," Cas said, looking out the window (still not looking at Dean), "that I should continue my search."

"Oh." Freaking duh. Why would Cas want to stick around after being flat-out rejected? "Yeah, of course. Just... stay in contact?"

At that, Cas finally looked at him. He wasn't smiling, exactly, but there was something soft in his expression. "Of course. I'll always be there when you need me, Dean."

Dean blinked. His eyes felt suddenly misty but he stubbornly didn't wipe them. He wasn't crying. "Yeah, well," he rubbed the back of his neck. Why was this so hard to spit out? He'd already told Cas that he loved him, not that Cas remembered. This shouldn't be that hard. "Same."

Now Cas did smile. "You're a good man, Dean."

And he was gone. Dean stared at the spot where he had disappeared from, then shouldered his duffle and headed for the door.

Alone again. The way it was supposed to be.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

then the apocalypse didn't happen and Cas became an angel again and he and Dean hooked up and lived happily ever after forever and ever (please don't hate me)

see my tumblr (link on my author's page) for drabbles that are too short to post here and scenes from upcoming fic


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